The New Rector (Tales from Turnham Malpas)

by Shaw, Rebecca

  ‘You must be the answer to a prayer. I would love to do it. What an opportunity! I could bring Rosie with me because she’s the right age. Oh, Miss Hipkin, I could kiss you! In fact, I will!’

  Suzy stood up, took Muriel by the shoulders and gave her a hearty kiss on each cheek. ‘Seeing as we’re in the Common Market you can have a continental kiss.’

  Muriel hadn’t been kissed since she couldn’t remember when. Her mother hadn’t been one for kissing, and there wasn’t anyone else. She blushed bright red.

  ‘It isn’t definite yet, because Mr Harris doesn’t know I’m here, but if you seriously mean you want to do it then I’ll have a word.’

  ‘Oh, I do, I do. It will be such an advantage for the children to have a playgroup. Just think of all the children on the farms and the ones from the Big House. Those poor little mites will be in their seventh heaven.’

  ‘This coffee is lovely, thank you very much for it. I’ll go and see the rector now and tell him of our plan. Dr Harris says she thinks it will have to be a mother and toddler group until we get proper permission from the County. We must walk before we run. Bye bye, dear girls.’

  ‘Bye bye, Miss Hipkin,’ they said, their mouths full of crumbly biscuit.

  ‘My head’s exploding with plans, Miss Hipkin. I shan’t be able to sleep tonight for thinking about it.’

  ‘Mr Meadows won’t mind, will he? I know some men can be funny about their wives having jobs outside the home.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about Patrick. He probably won’t even notice I’m doing it. Anyway, men don’t mind wives having jobs nowadays. Let me know as soon as you can about the playgroup. Liz Neal would probably help as well.’

  ‘Of course, I’d forgotten about her. Bye bye … Suzy.’

  Muriel stepped along past the infant teacher’s cottage to the Rectory and rang the bell.

  Peter answered the door wearing his decorating trousers and an old shaggy jumper relegated to the bin by Caroline but rescued just in time.

  ‘Come in, Muriel, you’ve caught me finishing painting my study. How do you like the colour I’ve chosen?’

  ‘Lovely, it’s really lovely. I’d no idea this room could be so light. What a difference! The white woodwork sets it off so nicely. It takes courage to choose such strong colours. I’m afraid my house is white or magnolia and that’s that. I’ve really come to see you on parish business. You remember we were talking about starting a playgroup? Well, I think – with your approval of course – that I’ve found the very person to be the leader.’

  ‘That’s excellent, Muriel. Who is it?’

  ‘Suzy Meadows. She can take little Rosie with her and when I mentioned it she jumped at the chance.’

  Peter turned to look out of the window to hide his consternation. Muriel awaited his grateful thanks.

  ‘She used to be a teacher, you know, before the girls were born and I think she would enjoy getting back into the fray, so to speak.’

  ‘What a good idea, Muriel. I should never have thought of asking her. Are you sure it won’t be too much for her with those three girls to look after and her … husband?’

  ‘This new generation of women are much more energetic and determined than their mothers used to be. She’s very keen.’

  ‘Very well. We’ll get the ball rolling. I’ll make arrangements to meet her and get down to brass tacks. Thank you for being so inspired, Muriel.’

  ‘Not at all. I’m looking forward to it all starting. Good morning, Rector. I’ll see myself out.’ And Muriel shut the Rectory door behind her.

  Her next stop was the village store, where both Harriet and Jimbo were working. As Muriel entered, Harriet was serving Sharon and Scott from The Royal Oak.

  Sharon was choosing her shopping with a disdainful expression on her face. ‘You haven’t got no convenience foods, have you, like what we sell in Tesco’s. Lovely Chicken Kiev and things all ready to pop in the oven, we have there. Scott, put that KitKat down. Mum said you weren’t to have no more chocolate today.’

  ‘Shut up you, I’ll do as I like.’ Scott picked up the KitKat, tore off the wrapper and began eating it.

  Jimbo fumed. ‘You’ll have that to pay for, Sharon.’ ‘He can pay for it himself, I’m not paying.’ ‘Can’t, our Sharon. Haven’t got no money.’ ‘Wait till I get you home, I’ll tell Mum about this.’ ‘If you do I’ll tell her about where you were last night.’ Muriel felt compelled to intervene. ‘That’s not the way to talk to your sister, Scott. You should pay for it. Come to think of it, you shouldn’t have taken the chocolate in the first place if your mother says you shouldn’t.’

  ‘Shut up, Miss Prim Hipkin. Miss Neat an’ Tidy, Miss Dull an’ Boring, mind your own business.’

  ‘Well really.’ Muriel blushed bright red. This nasty little boy had spoken out loud something she’d been thinking about herself for quite a while. But it was disconcerting to hear the truth from one so young.

  Jimbo marched round from the cheese counter, took hold of Scott by his collar and removed him from the store.

  ‘Out, you, and stay out. You can come back in when you’ve apologised for your bad behaviour. And if your father wants to know why I’ve sent you packing, ask him to come round to see me.’

  Sharon didn’t even have the grace to apologise for her brother. She paid for the goods she’d bought and sauntered out of the shop, putting her tongue out at Muriel as she went.

  Harriet sat Muriel down on a chair and gave her a coffee from the machine provided for customers.

  ‘Sit here, Miss Hipkin, and drink this. I’m sorry he was so rude. The parents are to blame, not him – remember that.’

  Jimbo was fuming. ‘And you remember, Harriet, that Scott McDonald is not allowed in here until he has apologised – and I mean it.’

  ‘Jimbo, The Royal Oak is a very good customer of ours.’

  ‘I know, I know, but I won’t have him in. He’ll be shoplifting next.’

  Muriel found her tongue. ‘He’s very difficult in school, you know. Mr Palmer has to keep him on a tight rein. He always plays up in music lessons.’

  ‘Doesn’t get enough attention at home, I suppose.’ Harriet had turned away to press on with collecting ingredients for some cheesecakes she was making for the freezer.

  Jimbo went into the meat department to find some trimmings from a hindquarter of beef that he’d just cut into joints for a customer. He presented them to Muriel in a smart dark green plastic bag with ‘Turnham Malpas Village Store’ printed on it.

  ‘To Pericles from Jimbo with his compliments.’

  ‘How kind you are, Mr Charter-Plackett. Pericles will enjoy himself. You indulge him too much.’

  ‘Not at all, it’s my pleasure.’

  After Muriel had made her purchases she wandered off home. As she paused to check the road before she crossed, Scott McDonald approached from the green and, ramming something into her shopping bag, ran off laughing. When she looked inside she found his KitKat wrapper. He’d quite spoilt her day. It had begun so well, solving the problem of the playgroup leader and admiring Peter’s colour scheme and looking forward to shopping for her little bits and pieces – and now Scott had ruined it all. She couldn’t demean herself by speaking to Mr McDonald. She didn’t go into The Royal Oak: ladies didn’t. She had to hope it would all blow over. However, Pericles enjoyed his fresh meat and eventually her usual cheerfulness reasserted itself.

  Muriel’s visit had left Suzy Meadows all of a dither.

  ‘Come on, girls, we’ll go round to Mrs Neal’s and tell her about the playgroup. I know it’s not official but I’m bursting to talk to someone about it.’

  Rosie shrugged on her anorak and asked her mother what a playgroup was.

  ‘A school for little girls and boys who are not old enough to go to Mr Palmer’s school.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘In the church hall, I expect.’

  ‘Oh.’ Rosie popped her thumb in her mouth whilst she sorted out her feelings about it
.

  Liz was pruning her roses in the front garden. Guy and Hugh were racing madly about on their bikes.

  ‘Liz, I just had to come round. Muriel Hipkin has told me that the rector is thinking of starting a playgroup in the church hall and she is going to suggest me as the leader.’

  ‘I know, I know.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Peter’s been round to see me this morning. It’s not going to be in the church hall – well, it might be to start with – but then with any luck it will be moved to that spare room in the Infants.’

  ‘Liz, has he asked you to be leader?’

  ‘Of course not, I’m not a teacher. He just wanted to know if I would be willing to help you, and help form a committee.’

  ‘Would you mind working with me?’

  ‘I’d love to. We both need some kind of outlet and this would be just the thing. Hugh, leave Pansy alone – she doesn’t want to ride your bike. Stop it, please. Let’s all go inside and get Chinese Checkers out or something. Come on, all of you.’

  When Suzy left Liz’s house she decided to take the bull by the horns and call on Peter.

  He answered the door and invited them all inside.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me coming to call,’ Suzy began rather shyly. ‘Have I caught you when you’re busy on anything? No? Well, Miss Hipkin has been round to ask if I might be interested in starting a playgroup and I’ve come to say yes, I’d be delighted.’

  Peter had lifted Pansy onto his knee and given her his watch to play with. Rosie was trying hard to get it off her.

  ‘Let me see if I can find something for you to play with.’ He opened a drawer in his desk and took out paper and a pencil. ‘There you are – draw me a picture. I would be delighted, too, if you would do it,’ he said, finally meeting Suzy’s bright blue eyes. ‘We need enthusiasm but we also need expertise, and it will make it much easier for us to get the use of the room in the school if the person in charge is known to be properly qualified for the job. I envisage a really lively playgroup doing a real job, not just keeping the children out of their mothers’ ways. Would that be how you would feel about it?’

  ‘Yes, of course. It will make Toria Clark’s job so much easier if the new intake have had the experience of a good playgroup. Liz Neal is very willing to help. I don’t know about charges, though. I’ll ask around some of my friends in London and see what they pay.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought about charges, but of course there will have to be one. You ask around and I’ll draft a letter for the Council and get someone to come down and view our facilities. If we can have it in the school that would be the best. If not, the church hall.’

  ‘I won’t keep you any longer, Peter. Come along, girls. Isn’t it exciting? I can’t wait to get started!’

  ‘My daddy’s gone to America this morning.’ Pansy looked up at Peter as she told him her news.

  ‘Oh, I see. Will he be away long?’

  ‘No, just three or four days.’ Suzy took hold of Rosie and set off for the door.

  Peter saw them out and stood watching them walk along the pavement. They lived next door but one. He heartily wished it hadn’t been Suzy who was the most suitable candidate for the job.

  Two days later Suzy, her head full of lists and jobs to do towards the successful opening of the playgroup, answered a knock at the door. Expecting it to be Muriel with more news about the project, she had a shock when she found a policewoman and what looked like two detectives standing there. The older man showed her his warrant card and then asked if she was Mrs Patrick Meadows.

  ‘Yes, lam.’

  ‘May we come in?’

  ‘Yes.’

  They stood looking at one another in a group in the hall.

  Finally the policewoman said, ‘I’m afraid we have some bad news for you, Mrs Meadows. It’s your husband. I’m sorry to say he has died.’

  ‘Died? You must be mistaken – he’s in America. No, no, you’ve got it all wrong. It must be another Patrick Meadows. My husband is giving a paper to the Commission. He’ll be home tomorrow – won’t he?’ Her voice trailed off as she recognised the embarrassed sympathy in the faces of the officers.

  The policewoman took her into the sitting room and helped her to a chair.

  ‘I’ll go and make a cup of tea for you, Mrs Meadows. Where are the children?’

  ‘How do you know I’ve got children?’

  The policewoman pointed to the bottom bookshelf where the children kept their books.

  ‘They’re at my mother’s for a couple of days. I’ll make the tea.’ She started to get up out of the chair but the WPC gently pushed her back down again and disappeared into the kitchen. The two detectives stood in front of her. The younger one was looking about the room as though expecting clues to come leaping out of the walls.

  Suzy managed to find some words to say. ‘How did he … how did … what happened?’

  ‘He died in his car.’

  ‘You mean he had an accident?’

  ‘Well, no, it appeared to be intentional.’

  ‘Intentional? What do you mean, “intentional”?’

  ‘He used the exhaust pipe and a piece of hose.’

  ‘You mean suicide? Patrick wouldn’t commit suicide. He’s not that kind of person!’

  ‘In view of the top secret job he was doing, Mrs Meadows, could we be allowed to look through his papers and belongings to see if we can find a reason for what has happened? If not today, perhaps another day when you’re feeling more able to cope.’

  ‘Where was he when he … he … did it?’

  ‘He was found this morning at first light. He’d parked his car on the cliffs near Flamborough Head in Yorkshire.’

  ‘Oh well, it definitely isn’t Patrick then, because he went to America three days ago. I packed his case for him.’

  ‘He never actually left the country, Mrs Meadows. He had no passport, no currency, no ticket – nothing to indicate that that was what he intended to do.’

  ‘He said he was going. He never told lies – he was scrupulously honest.’

  ‘Had he been behaving oddly recently?’

  ‘He always behaved oddly. Everyone thought he was odd, but it was normal for him. His mind was always preoccupied with his work; he didn’t socialise or bother with the children. There was nothing different about him that day he left.’

  ‘We found this letter addressed to you. I’ll put it here on the mantelpiece and then you can read it when you feel ready. If there is anything in it that might throw light on his state of mind or why he did it we’d be glad to know.’

  ‘Thank you. That’s his desk over there. You can look in it if you wish.’

  Suzy laid her head back, unable to grasp what had happened. Her mind was racing over the happenings of the last few weeks before Patrick had left for America. Had there been some clues which she’d failed to recognise? Suddenly she shot bolt upright. ‘However am I going to tell the children? Oh dear God, what am I going to do?’

  The matter-of-fact voice of the policewoman broke in with a kindly, ‘Here’s your tea, Mrs Meadows.’ She didn’t notice that the tea was scalding hot, she was so thirsty. The senior one of the two detectives had begun searching Patrick’s desk: methodically, drawer by drawer, file by file, letter by letter. His filofax was in the top drawer. Suzy knew when she saw the detective begin to look through it that Patrick had never intended to go to America. He took the filofax with him whenever he left the house. It was filled with names, addresses and messages, all necessary to his work. So he had acted out of character, even before he’d left for work that last morning.

  ‘He was frightened – that was it. He was frightened that morning when he left,’ Suzy told the policewoman in a shaking voice. ‘I don’t know what he was frightened of, but he was.’

  ‘Did you do much entertaining of people from the office or the laboratories, Mrs Meadows?’

  ‘Well, sometimes we did, but not often. Patrick wasn’t a very
social being. Occasionally we had people from abroad. They stayed here – they liked the idea of the typical English village.’

  ‘What nationality were they?’

  ‘Middle Eastern sometimes, or European, and once an American.’

  ‘Was everything all right between the two of you? You know, were you close enough for him to confide in you?’

  Suzy felt as though she was carved out of wood. Her face didn’t work properly and she’d lost her voice. There was no part of her of which she was in command. All control had gone. Slowly tears began to trickle down her face. Not huge rolling streams of tears but a steady trickle like drizzling rain. She knew she’d have to get to the lavatory quickly or she was going to wet herself. She found herself in the cloakroom, where she suffered violent diarrhoea. It must have been almost ten minutes before she had sufficient control to leave. The policewoman knocked on the door twice to ask if she was in need of help but Suzy’s voice had gone and she couldn’t reply. Finally she came out and went back to the sitting room. She sat trembling uncontrollably. The room was so cold.

  ‘We’ll leave now, Mrs Meadows. I’m taking this filofax to the station to see if I can find anything that might be of help. I’ll give you a receipt for it. Debra will stay with you. If there’s anything you think of that might be of help, tell Debra and she’ll let us know.’ The three of them went into the hall and Suzy could hear them quietly talking. Debra came back in, took off her jacket and sat down in the chair opposite her.

  A few minutes after the detectives had gone the doorbell rang. Debra answered it. Whoever was at the door was invited in and stood talking in the hall. The sitting-room door opened and framed in the doorway with his head bent because of his height stood Peter Harris. He was wearing his white marriage cassock. He appeared to Suzy like an angel sent from God to comfort her.